


No stranger to pain

by Newagenewbarricade



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Chronic Pain, M/M, Trespasser Spoilers, takes place over whole game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5822374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newagenewbarricade/pseuds/Newagenewbarricade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emairi Lavellan was no stranger to pain, that didn't make it sting, ache, throb or radiate any less. Another piece about my inquisitor with chronic pain</p>
            </blockquote>





	No stranger to pain

Emairi knew how to handle pain, he was an old pro at it by the time he got served to the inquisition ass first out of the fade. He was also no stranger to romance or trysts by the time he joined the inquisition, join being a very loosely defined word of course. By the time Emairi had met Dorian he’d broken a fair share of hearts, he wasn’t proud of it but he wasn’t ashamed either, it simply was. The tevinter mage was certainly an enigma to the Dalish first, talking about his little jewels of ideas while they traipsed through a catastrophic future. Doing battle with Alexius was difficult when all Emairi could think about was the throbbing pain in his back. He fell to the ground while sealing a rift, ignoring his body’s protests to remain on the floor he had to push himself back up. If his lyrium addled companions could fight then gods be damned he wasn’t going to let his own body stop him either.

Then of course just when he was starting to get used to the new radial arm pain, a blighted magister had to show up and screw him over. Emairi had hoped he’d at least have gotten one night of peace before becoming a martyr for a bunch of shems but the gods sure as beyond had a sense of humor it seemed. Emairi blew up a mountain because of course he did, why would he do anything else? He woke up in a pool of his own blood and in so much pain he could hardly do anything other than scream. 

Just another day in the life of Emairi Lavellan, he pushed himself up cursing all the while and limped out of the gods forsaken cavern he’d fallen into. Tears of pain froze to his cheeks as he pulled himself towards the faintest sight of fire in the distance. He’d barely even been able to see the camp before collapsing into the snow,

“It’s him! Thank the Maker!” Someone shouts before he loses consciousness.

He woke up with the tevinter altus leaning over him,

“Good you’re awake, this place is terribly dull without you.” Dorian said.

“How would they ever manage without my dagger sharp wit?” Emairi asked, wincing as he felt a stab of rib pain.

“You took quite a bit of damage from that mountain.” Dorian said.

Emairi chuckled, his ribs had been attacking him since he was fifteen, his back since he was seven and his arms since he was eighteen. He was no stranger to pain.

“It’ll take more than a mountain to stop me.”

“Clearly.” Dorian said.

Skyhold was bigger than Haven and far more secure but damn it had too many stairs for the Inquisitor’s taste, or rather the inquisitor’s legs’ taste. He was about halfway up the stairs to the library when he slid to the ground. He bit his lip, he hated it when it was this bad there was never anything he could do about it. Ellana was able to make a decent potion but he didn’t have the recipe and apparently neither did any of Skyhold’s healers.

“Fen’arel’s fenedis!” Emairi yelled in pain.

“Inquisitor?” Dorian was standing at the top of the stairs.

“I’m fine.” Emairi said, glaring at his ribs like they’d personally wronged him which they had on many an occasion.

“Doesn’t sound like it.” Dorian said, heading down the stairs to the inquisitor’s side.

“It’s good I caught you anyway, there’s a letter you need to see.” Emairi said, unclenching his fist to give the parchment to Dorian.

 

Standing in the Tavern, listening to Dorian’s father spout the same lies and filth he’d used on Dorian years before ignited a fire in the inquisitor,

“Dorian, let’s get out of here.” He said, making a point to grab Dorian by the hand.

“Yes, there’s nothing for me here.” Dorian said.

Back in the library Emairi’s arms were throbbing, the mark even moreso. He almost didn’t hear Dorian say,

“You have to fight for what’s in your heart.”

Emairi breathed slowly, “I couldn’t agree more.”

Dorian pulled the inquisitor into a kiss, Emairi felt a rush of healing magic coming from Dorian’s lips and his hands. He was breathless, looking at Dorian in surprise,

“You think I don’t know the signs by now?” He teased.

“Shut up and kiss me again.” Emairi said with a smirk.

“Oh my, the inquisitor wants to be bad does he?”

“Very much so.” Emairi said, grabbing Dorian by the hips and pulling them together.

 

Dorian was the most gentle lover Emairi had ever had the pleasure of being with. They’d both been nervous but each assured the other they had nothing to fear. Emairi knew that Dorian knew he was transgender but he still had that moment of hesitation when he took off his tunic. Dorian only had one question,

“Is that why your ribs hurt all the time? Surely there must be better ways to bind.”

“This is the safest way I know of I assure you.” Emairi said.

Dorian’s kisses were sweet and tasted of honey and spices Emairi couldn’t name. Dorian traced Emairi’s scars with his thumb. They explored each other's bodies in perfect safety. Emairi held Dorian’s hand while they made love. He uttered dalish terms of endearment while Dorian whispered tevene in his ear.

After it was over Dorian said that if Emairi wanted it to end there, he would be put out but accept it, he then went on to say that anything between two men back in tevinter was purely physical, to hope for anything more was foolish. Emairi took Dorian’s hand in his, making sure Dorian was looking him in the eye before he started speaking,

“This  _ is  _ something more.” Emairi said. He remembered the last time he’d felt like this, it had ended badly a classic case of heartbreak. Emairi however hoped this story would end on a less pained note.

“Now that we’ve got the feelings out of the way, shall I  _ inquisit  _ you again?” Dorian asked waggling his eyebrows.

“Show off.” Emairi scoffed before kissing Dorian again.

 

Emairi was no stranger to pain. When he got the report that his clan had been killed he staggered out of the war room completely ignoring his advisors concerned voices. He made it to the hallway between his room and the throne room before he fell to the floor. He was no stranger to pain, that didn’t mean it hurt any less. The scratchy fibers of the carpet grazed the old scar on his cheek, he and Camris had been out in the woods near camp. They were horny teenagers in love and they were sneaking out of camp nearly every night, not that the whole clan didn’t know exactly what they were up to but regardless. They were fucking in the grass when they heard someone approaching. They rushed to get at least somewhat presentable, expecting the keeper or some family member but instead they were greeted by a group of shemlen hunters. Two naked teenage mages against six adult armed humans wasn’t a fair fight, Emair took a knife to the face and Camris took one to the neck. Emairi just remembered screaming and so much red, he couldn’t tell where Camris’s hair ended and the blood began. Everyone had told him not to blame himself but how could he not? He was the one who’d wanted to sneak out that night, he was the one who figured it wasn’t anyone hostile coming for them, he was the one who couldn’t stop the bleeding in time.

It had been years since he’d thought of Camris’s death so vividly, but finding out you got your entire clan killed will bring up certain memories. Like the boy you thought you’d marry dying in your arms, repeating “ar lath ma.” over and over like a prayer while you tried and miserably failed to save his life.

According to Dorian he’d been completely inconsolable when he’d found him, just saying “Ir abelas” “Camris” and “Lavellan” over and over again.

“My clan, my clan is” Emairi curled into himself from pain, as if his ribcage were constricting against him. Cullen’s report slipped through his fingers. Dorian held him in his arms, Emairi couldn’t make out the words but it was a comfort nonetheless. In fact the only word Emairi could make out was “amatus” he would have to ask Dorian what that meant one day.

 

Emairi had a steeled expression when he went to Adamant fortress. His arm crackled with fade energy, he was able to pretend he was shaking his arms because of the mark. He saw wardens, brave selfless wardens, those that looked up to an elven mage as their commander falling under the manipulation of corypheus. He took a severe injury to the stomach. The fortress was falling apart, it was a longshot but it was his only hope. He splayed his hand out in front of him, and fell into the fade.

 

The fear demon knew how to hurt an elf that’s for sure,

“Camris died knowing you were falling out of love with him. He died wondering if you were letting him die so you wouldn’t break his heart. Your sister died hating you, the clan cursed your name with their final breaths.”

Leaving the fade wasn’t something Emairi could physically do. He fell to his knees right before the rift. When he was carried out in his lover’s arms many feared this was the end of the impervious inquisitor. As he would later say “It’ll take more than fear itself to take me down.” right before being brought to the ground by his own spine.

 

Dorian didn’t bring up what the demon had said at first, but when Emairi was losing sleep and waking up in cold sweats he bit the arrow and asked,

“What happened to Camris?” 

“I failed him.” Emairi said, too ashamed to even meet Dorian’s eye.

“Somehow I feel that’s not the whole story.” Dorian said.

“We were, we were together in the woods because we were stupid kids and. We were ambushed.” Emairi traced the scar on his cheek, a permanent reminder of that day, “I got this and he got stabbed in the neck.” Emairi’s hands shook as he relived the memories,

“I was holding him when he, when he died. We were sixteen.” Emairi said.

Dorian wrapped his arms around Emairi,

“It wasn’t your fault. I’m sure you did everything you could.”

Emairi pushed Dorian off him,

“And my best wasn’t good enough!” He snapped, “He still died, my sister was a fucking healer and I couldn’t even keep him alive long enough to get back to camp!” Emairi screamed biting his hand as pain coursed through him, “I fail everyone I love, you should stay away from me. I’ll fail you too.” Emairi said.

“Emairi that’s bullshit. You were a child when he died and you haven’t failed anyone in the time I’ve known you. We both know what the world would be like without you, don’t you dare act like you’re not doing something remarkable here.”

“What does any of that matter? My family is dead! Everyone I’ve ever known outside these walls died because I made a bad call. You can sugarcoat all you want Dorian but I failed my own people, I failed the ones who really mattered to me.”

“Come back when you’re ready.” Dorian said before walking out of Emairi’s quarters. Emairi fell face-first into his bed, screaming into the blankets, he just couldn’t keep it together even once could he?

 

When Emairi had been able to process his rehashed grief in a dubiously healthy at best manner he went to Dorian,

“Ir abelas, I was in a bad place and took it out on you, I don’t expect you to forgive me but. I just wanted you to know that I am truly sorry for how I treated you.”

“I understand, you were in pain and you lashed out it’s to be expected.” Dorian said,

“That doesn’t make it right.” Emairi said.

“We can move past this, if you want to.” Dorian hesitated.

Emairi took Dorian’s warm hands in his chilled ones, ignoring the other fiery mage who had once held his heart in a similar manner,

“I would like that very much.”

 

The winter palace, Halamshiral an elven city where the rightful rulers were treated as servants and Emairi was called knife ear and savage to his face and behind his back. When he saw all the orlesian masks Emairi couldn’t help but laugh, these people went out of their way to hide their truths when to Emairi it was second nature. He put an elven woman on the throne and danced with his beloved and he only felt like screaming from pain once.

 

The Arbor wilds were a trial. Hearing his name cried out like a God’s on the lips of soldiers was not something Emairi ever expected to experience. He also hadn’t expected to find ancient elves in the temple of Mythal who called his people, the people he had dedicated his life to protecting, ignorant children. He drank of the well, as if he’d ever let some shemlen take the knowledge of his people. He fell as his mind raced with ages and ages worth of knowledge.  _ A Keeper’s job is to remember, even when it hurts.  _ Emairi was the Keeper of Clan Lavellan and he would remember even if it killed him.

 

The final battle against Corypheus was slanted right from the start, Emairi was being assaulted by his entire body before Corypheus’s dragon was even out of the sky. The sting in his bones just made the crackle of electricity all that more potent when he landed a blow, fight through the pain just like always.

“You bear the marks of a slave.” Corypheus tried to taunt him.

“I bear the marks of a people who will never submit! Suledin elvhen!” Emairi yelled as he fought the magister. A shard of red lyrium nicked him in the arm. He cringed at the sting but preserved. When Corypheus laid dead Emairi fell to the ground like a rock. His companions feared the worst but his Amatus? He knew the difference between his Inquisitor’s pain collapses and any other collapse.

 

Finding out Solas left was disappointing but Emairi had other things to worry about, Solas and he had never been particularly close but it still hurt him that he left without so much as a farewell. Knowing that Dorian would soon be leaving to save his country was a much deeper and more complicated pain, it throbbed and ached and was without end.

 

The mark was eating him alive, everyday it clawed up his arm. Emairi could scarcely focus on anything else during the exalted council. Even when Sola- Fen’harel revealed his plans to destroy the world Emairi could hardly concentrate he was in so much pain. Solas lobbing his arm off was practically a relief. Emairi was no stranger to pain or to blood. He grasped the crystal Dorian had given him as if it was his lifeline. 

“You’re the man I love amatus, nothing can truly keep us apart.” Dorian said, yet here he was leaving for Tevinter once more. Emairi was no stranger to pain but that didn’t make it ache any less.

**Author's Note:**

> Well I'm posting this because wowie screaming from chronic pain in the middle of campus is a fun way to spend an evening! my tumblr is alinnsurana, please comment I love hearing what my readers have to say!


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